


The Red-Haired Prince

by DemonsWatchYouSleep6



Category: Original Work
Genre: Breakups, Depression, F/M, Heartbreak, Lust, Magic, Multi, Pirates, Prison, Romance, Royalty, Suicidal Thoughts, red hair
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-29
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-09-30 01:12:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 18
Words: 17,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17214239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DemonsWatchYouSleep6/pseuds/DemonsWatchYouSleep6
Summary: I am Lidia. Daughter of a cobbler, a peasant and nothing more. Living in a tiny town as an insignificant girl. . . Or so I thought.





	1. Legend

Terrex, once a fair and joyful kingdom, shall devolve into chaos and unrest. None shall know the cause or cure except they heed these words.

A dark consciousness, unseen by the people and unsuspected by soothsayers, shall enter from a land far-off and stir up anger in the hearts of the Terrexians. None can defeat this evil but one: the bride of the Prince--the Prince with a head of fire.

His bride shall rise up and bring her wrath upon the evil, dispelling it for eternity. And she will change the kingdom forever.

For good or evil, no one knows but she.”


	2. Prologue

A man in his mid-twenties paced around a gilded room, his silk coat swishing as he moved, his dark auburn hair slightly messier than he usually kept it.

He was still quite young for a king, but then again, his parents had died when he was eighteen years of age, leaving him to rule the vast kingdom of Terrex. 

The king's pale blue eyes were full of anxiety as he paced tirelessly from one end of the large room to the other, waiting, listening. . . 

"Your Majesty!" Came the cry of a young page. The king stopped pacing and turned around. The boy, who was only about thirteen, bowed hastily.  
"Your Majesty, it's a boy!" The page gasped (he had evidently run), "A boy with red hair!"

The king gasped. "Truly?"

The boy gave no response but a nod.

The legend ran through the young king's head as he followed the page. A Prince with a head of fire. . . Was his son truly the prince that was foretold? He entered the room to find the queen resting in the large bed, a little bundle in her tired arms. She looked up as her husband entered and gave him a radiant smile.

The king kissed her, then looked down at his son. Sure enough, the child had the reddest hair the man had ever seen. He looked at his wife. "What does this mean?" He whispered.

She kept smiling. "It means our son is special," she replied simply, "and we have to respect him for it."

"I'll be ready for change in the next, say, eighteen years," the king half-joked. The queen laughed.

"I will too," she said, "I will too."


	3. The News

"Lidia, where are you?" My father's voice calls out, "There's a customer to see you."

I smile and run downstairs to the cobbler's shop where my father works. Only one 'customer' would be here to see me.

Sure enough, a familiar face, framed by curly auburn hair, greets me as I appear on the ground floor. I smile. "Hey, Rupert," I say, "What brings you to our humble shop today?" My voice is teasing; I know exactly why my boyfriend has come for me today. He knows this too, and laughs at my jest.

"Oh, no reason, but to be with you," he says, jokingly adopting a proper Tazlaxian accent, "And to ask you to the school dance on Saturday."

I stare at him, a grin spreading across my face. Of course, I had known he would ask me, but the thrill of being asked in the first place will never fade.

"Well, of course," I laugh, "Who else would I take?"

My father breaks in with an amused laugh. "Why don't you two take that somewhere else?" He suggests, "There are other people who need shoes. They're waiting in line."

Rupert looks sheepish. "Sorry, Mr. Garryl."

"And take good care of my daughter!" My father calls after us as Rupert takes me outside.

Rupert winks at me and shouts back, "I will, don't you worry, sir!"

 

"So where are we going?" I ask, for my boyfriend seems to be taking me along a path I have never gone before.

"Oh, just a short walk," he replies airily, "I love this path. I walk along it nearly every day."

"You mean, every weekend," I say slyly, "Because between Monday and Friday, your days seem to be chock-full of school, detentions, and apprentice work."

He laughs, unbothered. "True, true," he admits, "All right then, every free time I get." He stops suddenly and sighs, his mood changing as fast as a gryphon's hummingbird-like wingbeats.

"What's up?" I ask, concerned. He looks at me, his dark green eyes full of an emotion I can't place. He shakes his head slightly, his curls shifting on his forehead.

"I. . . need to talk to you about something," he says with a huge sigh. I look around and find we are in a clearing, a small stone bench sitting in the middle. I sit down on it and he follows my lead. My eyebrows are raised, my chocolate-brown eyes wide with a question in them. Rupert reads it and looks at the leaf-strewn ground under his leather boots.

"The prince is coming to Gleeway," he says finally, "The Red-Haired Prince."

I jump up, astonished. "Truly?" I cry, "But, Rupert! That's incredible, why aren't you excited?"  
He looks up, his eyes serious. "I'm not NOT excited," he replies, "I'm just trying to make a hard decision."

I'm confused. "The dance is still on for Saturday, right?"

"Of course," he says quickly, "I wouldn't ask you and then ditch you five minutes later. I'll stick to what I said earlier."

"Have you made your decision?"

"Not yet. It will most likely take me a couple of days. The prince is coming in a week, so it still gives me time."

I have no clue what he's talking about, but I sigh. "This somber attitude is worrying me, Rupert," I say with a shake of my head.

"Well, you've heard the news, now you can worry about which dress to wear to the dance," he says with a half grin, "And if you need help deciding on the color, I'll be wearing dark green."

"Thanks," I say with a small smile, though I don't miss his sudden change of subject.

He stands up and takes my hand. "I'll take you back to your father's shop," he says, "I don't want him accusing me of keeping you out too long."

I giggle. "No one would want that," I reply. My father's a large man with an equally large voice, so nobody would want him shouting at them.

Rupert's news of the prince is still swimming around in my head as, hand in hand, we begin to head back along the path.


	4. A Full Day

My mother bustles into the room with a package in her arms. She smiles at me. "Oh hello, Lidia, your father said you were out with Rupert again."

"He brought me back here, we didn't want to risk Papa's wrath," I joke.

She laughs. "Well, I brought you some different fabrics. I figured you'd want to pick out the material for your dress."

"What dress?"

"For Saturday. Your father told me Rupert was taking you out to the dance. Is he still taking you?"

I laugh too. "Oh yeah. He still is. I just hadn't thought about a dress yet, I suppose."

"Well, we'd better get started. Saturday is just four days away."

She starts laying out the different materials on my bed while I hunt through magazines for a style I like. I've just found a cute one when my mother says, "Come pick."

I slide off my chair and walk over to the bed, where Mom has laid out over a dozen pieces of fabric, all in different colors and types. I pore over them for a few minutes before smiling at a silk-like material in a creamy color. (Of course, I assumed it wasn't  _ real  _ silk, because only royalty could afford such an expensive fabric.)

"This will go well with his suit," I decide, picking it up, "Can you do it in this style?" I point to the picture I found in my magazine. 

My mother looks it over with a keen eye before nodding. "That shouldn't be too hard," she says with a smile, taking the cream fabric from me as well as the magazine. I pick up the rest of the fabrics and help carry them to her sewing room, stacking them neatly in a corner to use at a later date.

Mom sets up her sewing machine as I leave the room to prepare.

 

I am just setting out a pair of pearl earrings (the pearl is my birthstone) about three hours later when Mom comes back into my room.

"Done already?" I look up, surprised. Dresses usually take two to three days to be finished. Mom laughs.

"Of course not," she says, "I just wanted to tell you: Your boyfriend is going over to help with the building of the Prince's 'leisure hall' in the square. He wants to know if you'd like to come as well."

I brush my annoyingly curly brown hair out of my eyes and smile. "Sure," I say, "Just let me change into more suitable clothes first."

"I'll tell him," she nods, and exits to give me some privacy.

 

When I arrive downstairs, I am wearing an old, emerald-green T-shirt and some of my brother's old trousers. Tierstyn moved out months ago, so it often feels like I am an only child.

Rupert raises his eyebrows at me, and I cross my arms.

"Girls  _ are  _ allowed to wear trousers, you know," I say hotly.

He puts up his hands in defense. "Hey, I wasn't going to say anything about that," he retorts, "I was just going to say, I've never seen you in anything like that before, but it looks nice."

Now it's my turn to raise a skeptical eyebrow. Rupert laughs.

"Well, nice enough to work on a building, that is."

I smile as well and hook my arm through his. "Let's go, you silly boy," I say, giving his arm a playful punch. He pretends that it hurts, but his arm is so well-muscled, I'm sure he doesn't feel a thing. We laugh and joke as we go outside and walk towards the Gleeway Square.

 

The building goes surprisingly fast; I guess I shouldn't be surprised, since we have the whole town there, but still. A building usually takes at least two weeks to be brought up, but the Prince's leisure hall takes barely a day. We all work well together, so the work goes fast, and we target different areas at once. It also seems to help that the entire thing is temporary; the Prince won't be staying in our little corner of the kingdom forever.

Finally, as the sun is going down, Rupert takes me back home. "They'll finish it fine," he says, "You probably need some rest. If anything, I do," he adds with a little wink that makes me laugh. Rupert always makes me laugh.

"Goodnight," I call to him as he's going down the road to his house, "I'll see you at school tomorrow."

"You too, Lidia," he replies, and I close the door to the shop and lock it. Business is over for the day, after all.


	5. My Dress

On Friday morning, Mom knocks on my door.

"Lidia, are you in there?"

"I'm here, Mom," I say, jumping out of bed and pulling on a robe, "I'll be just a second."

I open the door and Mom hands me a package. "I hope it's to your liking, sweetheart," she says with a smile, "I also hope it's to Rupert's liking. But I'm sure that won't matter to him as much as  _ you  _ matter to him."

I blush. "Mother," I say, rolling my eyes. When it comes to your relationships, parents can be so  _ embarrassing _ ! But she just laughs. 

"Good morning, Lidia. Try it on and show me, please. I need to know how it looks and if it fits."

"I will, thanks for making it," I reply, and slowly close the door as she walks the rest of the way down the hallway, to the kitchen to make breakfast.

I unwrap the package and cream-colored silk spills out. I hold up the dress and gasp. It's perfect!

The sleeves are just slight, with three beautiful, pale-pink fabric roses sewn onto the front side of the left sleeve, and the bodice is fitted through the hips. The skirt fans out in a feathery pattern, with more roses sewn here and there for decoration.

But the best part is on the hem. Little pearls are sewn straight onto the hem, making the edge of the dress shine alluringly. Mom always flaunts the fact that my birthstone is a pearl, one of the most expensive exports in the kingdom. We're not rich, but somehow Mom always seems to be able to get me pearls for one special occasion or another.

But so many, all on my dress for the school dance? I'm breathless. Mom outdid herself this time. Unzipping the back, I slip it on.

The slippery fabric hugs my skin past my hips and rustles as I move. It feels perfect. I run my fingers across the feathery edges Mom has snipped into the skirt. 

I can't help the smile that is spreading across my face. I go to my mirror and twirl, admiring the effect.

It's too beautiful for a cobbler's daughter like me, but I decide right away that it suits me. So I pull open the door and go out to show my mother.

 

"Oh good, it fits," Mom says with a big smile, "I wasn't sure it would, since I couldn't measure it on you."

"It's absolutely perfect! Thank you," I say, giving her a big hug. The fabric rustles with my every move, and every rustle increases my love for the gorgeous dress. 

I'm about to head back to my room when there's a knock on the door. Mom bustles over to answer it.

"Oh, hello," she says, sounding surprised, "Um, Lidia's in here, but she's. . .  a bit tied up at the moment."

A voice that makes my heart skip a beat answers, "Oh. . . I'll come back a bit later than. Actually, is your husband available? I'd like to have a small discussion with him."

Mom points downstairs. "He's most likely working, but maybe he'll be in a good enough mood to strike up a bit of conversation."

"Thank you, Mrs. Garryl. I'll be back a bit later for your daughter."

The door closes and Mom comes back into the apartment with a small smile on her face. I am still standing frozen, my skirt clutched in my hands as I stare at the door.

"Was that. . .?" I whisper. Mom chuckles.

"Rupert, yes," she says, "Quite a nice boy. I'm sure he was planning on taking you for another little walk. He's been doing that a lot lately."

I manage a smile and hurry back to my room to change. If this dress is going to be kept a secret until tomorrow evening, I'd better keep it tucked away.

 

I emerge a few minutes later wearing my regular, knee-length blue dress. My hair is in its usual unruly curls, and Mom says I look nice-- even though I'm wearing my sneakers. I will never understand my mother's taste in clothes, except maybe when she makes beautiful ball gowns for me that I don't really deserve.

I sit down on a couch with my sketchbook and start on a fresh page. First I shape a head with a few carefully curved lines. Then, as I'm starting to relax into the motions, a body emerges.

Finally, I'm finished. My friends all say I draw really fast, and maybe they're right: my drawings only take maybe ten minutes to finish. But they're never drawn without care.

I hold the sketchbook at arm's length and inspect my drawing. It's a replica of a painting I once saw. The Prince.

His bright hair is messy but stylish, hanging slightly over his pale blue eyes, which look serious in the painting but have a mischievous gleam in my sketch. His smile is big and genuine and reveals deep dimples in his cheeks, pushing holes in the splashes of freckles across his face.

He looks so much like the boy he is, and yet. . . he is, without a doubt, royalty. There's something regal about his posture, the way he holds his head level; not too high, not too low. I find myself smiling and catch myself.

The doorbell rings. My boyfriend is here.


	6. The Worst Words

I hang out with Rupert for the rest of the day, chatting with him as he goes about his apprentice work. He is apprenticed to Gleeway's best blacksmith, so there is a lot of smoke and clanging at our date. But I don't mind.

Finally, at sundown, Rupert's master comes in and dismisses his apprentice for the night. Rupert takes my arm and walks me home.

It is now that the subject of the Prince comes up.

"He's coming next Thursday, I believe," Rupert says, "Probably enough time for your mother to get all your dresses ready."

I look at him, startled. "Rupert!" I scold him, "Would I really leave you for some stuffy Prince?"

"Maybe," he says darkly.

I slap his shoulder. "If you think that, you're wrong," I hiss, "Why would I dump you? You're better than  _ him  _ any day."

He looks at me, his eyes solemn but hopeful. "Really? You really think so?"

"Duh." I roll my eyes. Rupert can be so  _ stupid  _ sometimes. "Plus, you had me first. If he tries to steal me from you, you have that argument."

"I can't really argue with him," Rupert reminds me, "He's the Prince."

"Still."

In a much better mood, my boyfriend drops me off on the front porch. He smiles. "See you tomorrow," he calls.

I wave back. Saturday means there's no school, so I know he's talking about the dance. He can't wait to see my dress, I figure. Can't really blame him; I can't wait to see his suit.

Still thinking about the dance, I let myself into the shop and lock the door behind me.

 

Saturday dawns bright and beautiful. I sit up in bed with a huge grin on my face; I'm much too excited to sleep in.

I'm just getting out of bed, imagining Rupert's face when he sees my dress, when my mother knocks on my door. I throw on a robe over my nightgown.

"Come in," I call.

Mom opens the door, coming in fully dressed. A serious look rests on her usually smiley face.

"What's up?" I ask her, my eyebrows raised.

"Rupert's here to see you," she says, "He seems upset."

My initial smile slides off my face. What can possibly upset my boyfriend so much that he comes to  _ me _ ? 

"I'll be there in a second," I say. Mom nods and leaves me alone to get dressed.

I come out of my room tentatively a few minutes later, wearing a simple sea-green dress. It's my favorite dress, and I sometimes think of it as lucky. Maybe I'm hoping for too much today, but I figure I need all the luck I can get.

Rupert's waiting in the foyer, his forehead creased with something close to worry. I can never completely read his emotions, but I can get close.

"Hi," I say tentatively, "What's up?"

Rupert looks up at me and his eyes immediately fill with something like regret. A deep fear begins to pool in my stomach.

He sighs and walks over to me. "Hey, Lidia," he says, twining his fingers in mine, "I need to talk to you."

He glances up at my mother, who I just now realize is in the room with us. She blinks. "I'll go make some coffee for you two," she says, and bustles out of the room. It is just me and Rupert, and something is troubling him.

He leads me over to the couch and we sit down next to each other.

Rupert looks at me with a very serious look on his face. "It appears the Prince will be arriving sooner than we thought."

"When?"

"This evening. And he wants all the girls in Gleeway to join him in his palace."

 

"I just won't go," I said after a moment of shocked silence, "I have to go to the school dance."

Rupert looks at me sadly, tears pooling at the corners of his pale eyes. "We're not going to the dance," he whispers, looking away from me.

I jump up. "What?!" I cry, "We have to! Mom has my dress all made and everything!"

My boyfriend stares at the hardwood floor. "Lidia, I--" He sighs and looks up at me. The expression on his face is one of pure misery. "I think you should go to the palace."

My fear bubbles over into dread.

"So you're saying. . ." my voice trails off as the dread closes off my throat. But I don't need to finish.

"I think we should. . . stay away from each other for a little while. See other people. You know?" Rupert says uncomfortably, "My father always says I need a little variety in my life."

I just stare in shock. Never in my  _ life  _ had I imagined Rupert saying those words. 

But now he had said them.

And my life dissolves into a dark whirlpool of hopelessness.


	7. The Invitation

I can’t remember Rupert leaving, but a couple of minutes after he confessed, he was gone. I am alone on the couch, staring at nothing, still trying to process his words.

_ "I think we should. . . stay away from each other for a little while. See other people. You know?"  _

The memory brings the tears that had refused to come while Rupert was here. Mom comes into the room to find me sobbing alone on the couch.

She sets the two mugs of coffee on a side table and sits next to me, putting her arm gently around me.

"Lidia, what's wrong?" She asks quietly. I shake my head, trying to stem the tears. It takes me a couple of minutes but finally I manage it.

"Rupert broke up with me," I whisper, and the confession makes my broken heart hurt even more. Suddenly it's all real.

I have reached the point of no return. And it hurts.

 

I sit on my bed, staring hopelessly at the beautiful cream-colored dress hanging in my closet. Now it will never be worn to a dance, sitting there forgotten, it’s only use to remind me of my sweet-tempered ex-boyfriend. I want to feel angry, but all emotion is gone, leaving an empty hole in my heart. 

Nothing is real anymore. Nothing can lift me from this pit of despair. I am the only real thing in the world.

The dress blurs in front of me as the tears finally come back, taking with them my emotionless grey veil. Sobbing again, I bury my face into my pillow. The tears come freely; I do nothing to stop them.

 

I don't remember falling asleep, but the next thing I know I'm being shaken awake. I sit up, not feeling much better than when I had fallen asleep.

"Lidia," Mom says, "Something has come for you."

"Some _ thing _ ?" I ask, confused. My sluggish brain finally processes what she must mean. "Oh. What?"

"I don't know. I figured you had a right to privacy." Mom pulls something from the pocket of her apron and presses it into my hand. It's a piece of paper.

"I know it's a note of some kind," Mom says, "But the rest is all up to you. Open it."

I rub my eyes to clear their bleariness and slide a shaky finger under the seal to break it. The letter looks official, although it's handwritten.

_ Dear Miss Garryl _ , the letter reads,  _ You are one of many girls in Gleeway, and His Majesty has invited you and many other girls  _ _ sixteen years of age to eighteen years of age _ _ to his leisure palace for a special dinner. He hopes to choose a girl to be his bride at this dinner; you have a chance of being said bride. Please join us on the seventh of August at precisely seven p.m. for the festivities.  _

The letter is signed with two names: _Prince_ _Owen Christopher Alexander Maximilian James_ and _Jonah Patrick Omar._ I assume Jonah Patrick Omar is Prince Owen's scribe or something.

I feel numb with shock. "What's the date?" I ask Mom.

"August sixth, why?"

"Tomorrow night the Prince has invited me to dinner."

 

A flurry of excitement is going on among Gleeway's many young women, and talk of the dinner is already going around when I go out to get the firewood an hour later.

Fiona Hailstorm, a girl who's apparently  _ just  _ old enough to get an invitation, dashes up to me as I'm walking to the woodpile. A radiant smile rests on her thin face, a few strands of her pale blond hair having come free from her usual braid and hanging around her face.

"Lidia! Did you get an invitation?"

I turn around and can't help a small smile. "Yeah," I say, "Didn't everybody?"

The girl, who is sixteen but often reminds me of a girl much younger, laughs. "Oh yes," she says, "I was just wondering, since you have Rupert. . ."

I blink, realizing that no one else knows about the breakup. "I don't have Rupert anymore," I whisper, relieved and a little scared to find that the words don't make me burst into tears anymore. It's still painful, but not as much as it was an hour ago. Strange. Perhaps it's the invitation that's giving me a bit of hope.

Fiona raises her eyebrows, and her deep green eyes soften. "I'm sorry," she whispers back, putting a small hand on my shoulder.

I shrug. "I'm mostly over it now," I say, "Now I can look forward to the dinner." I crack a smile, though it's a little forced.

Fiona beams again. "You're right!" She says, and skips off. I grab the firewood and hurry back inside, but I can't keep a smile of my own from creeping up my cheeks.

"What are you smiling about?" Mom asks with a slight smirk herself. I try to stop smiling but it doesn't work. "Just excited, that's all."

"For tomorrow?"

I nod. "Yeah. But I'm also nervous."

She puts a hand on my shoulder. "I understand the fear. You're nervous the Prince might not like you."

"Yeah." But I'm not telling her everything.

She pulls me closer, concern in her eyes. Darn, she figured me out. "There's something else," she says, "Something more you're worried about."

I sigh. "I'm nervous  _ I  _ might not like the  _ Prince _ ."


	8. Love Rides a Horse

The next morning, a messenger rides into Gleeway on a dark chestnut mount. He looks rather pompous, and I don't quite like the look of him.

"I have been sent to tell all," the messenger sniffs, "That His Majesty, Prince Owen Christopher Maximilian James shall soon be entering your town. He has sent to ask whether his leisure palace is quite finished."

Master Gorman, the smith, steps forward. "The palace was just finished yesterday," he says in his grunting voice. The royal messenger nods condescendingly.

"I must return. Farewell, people of Gleeway." With that, the man turns his horse around and gallops away.

The crowd doesn't move back to their homes, but stands around whispering excitedly. Most of the eligible girls push to the front so they will be the first people the Prince sees. I am one of the few that stays a little ways back. My dark eyes are wary as I scanned the road, holding my breath along with everyone else.

Once or twice my eyes stray over to where Rupert stands with Master Gorman, but I force myself to look away. We are finished now. There is nothing more between us.

Still, as I try to tell myself these things, I am hurt that Rupert doesn't even glance my way once.

 

Trumpets sound in the distance,  causing everyone to whisper even more excitedly . A thrill of excitement makes me shiver and my eyes widen. This is it. The Prince is arriving.

A dark splotch appears in the distance, just a smudge on the cobblestone road, but the mere sight shoots adrenaline through me as it does everyone else in the crowd.

Two figures on horseback ride ahead, their horses urged nearly to a full gallop. They wear chain mail but no plate armor, marking them as scouts; they've most likely been sent out to make sure we would be welcoming to His Highness. One of them waves at us before continuing on with the other scout.

I can't see their faces, as they are wearing lightweight, silver-alloy helmets, so I can't tell what their expressions are.

A large, gilded palanquin is marched into the square, and everyone seems to be holding their breath. Then a deep, regal voice says from inside: "Owen, stop embarrassing me and get back here!"

Okay, so not the Prince. The  _ King _ ? What is this madness?

But that does not compare to my shock and confusion when one of the scouts reluctantly turns back and walks his horse back to the palanquin.

"Racing does not become you, Owen," the King's voice scolds, "Especially when you are aiming to impress a bunch of girls."

_ Maybe that just impresses us more, though,  _  I think to myself with a smirk despite myself.

The scout reluctantly reaches up and takes off his helmet, receiving a collective gasp from the entirety of the crowd.

Hair bright as flame shines in the sunlight, hanging down to the young man's collar. It's longer than it had been in my sketch, but it is no less attractive. His pale blue eyes aren't visible from where I am standing, but I have their exact shade memorized (I kind of had to in order to sketch him. That's my only excuse.)

The prince is truly gorgeous, something I realize I hadn't particularly been expecting. I know I had sketched his portrait, but then, I had thought of him as a stiff, formal prince. Now. . . I mean, he's still a prince, but he seems much more  _ reachable  _ now, if that even makes sense. Tangible. Real. Beautiful.

Owen Christopher Maximilian James is extremely handsome. And Rupert, I realize guiltily, is nothing next to this man.

The man of my dreams sits atop his gleaming white mount, dressed in the lowly chain mail of a scout, a lightweight helm under one thin yet well-muscled arm.

I'm smitten, and I don't know what to do.


	9. Interlude 1: Azure

The bell rings above the shop door and Azure looks up from where she works alongside her husband. William gives her the shoe he'd been shining and stands up, towering over everybody else in the cobbler's shop.

"Good afternoon," he grunts to the customer, a young man in his late teens, "What can I do for you?"

The young man smiles affably at the large cobbler , his deep green eyes sparkling . "Good afternoon, sir," he says, "Um, would you happen to have a pair of work boots made for 'Fallon'?"

William thinks about it for a second. Azure stands up and touches her husband's broad shoulder. "In fact we do," she says, and bustles to the back room to fetch the order.

"Boots, boots, boots. . ." she murmurs to herself, searching through the room full of shoe orders. She eventually finds the boots labeled 'Fallon' and takes them back to the front of the shop.

"Are these yours, sir?" She asks him kindly, placing the boots on top of the counter.

He smiles. "Ah yes," he says lightly, "Thank you, sir and madam."

He takes the boots off the counter and bows slightly before exiting the store.

Azure taps her chin, looking after the young man with narrowed eyes. "Something seemed off about him," she murmurs to William, who nods thoughtfully.

"He looked somewhat familiar," William whispers back to his wife, "But I couldn't place him."

Azure thinks for a minute, then blinks as it clicks in her mind. "Lidia," she whispers.

William looks at his wife questioningly. "Our daughter?"

"That young man looked like the boy she'd been dating. Before the Prince came."

"Rupert? But why would he pretend to be someone else?"

Azure's dark eyes narrow. "I'm not completely sure," she says, sitting back down behind the counter, "Maybe I'm wrong. But if it  _ was  _ him, then something is definitely not right here."

William picks up the shoe he'd been shining and starts on it again. "I'll keep an eye out," he grunts, "In the meantime, why don't you take a break? It's about lunchtime."

She kisses him briefly before standing up again. "I'll bring you something nice," she promises before exiting the shop.


	10. Leisure Palace

After speaking quietly with his father, Prince Owen turns back to the people of Gleeway.

"I am Owen James," he says loudly, and his voice is strong and clear-- like you would expect from a prince such as him. "I appreciate your efforts on my leisure palace, and I would ask that all the eligible girls would follow me and my father to the palace for an enjoyable night."

There is suddenly a lot of squealing in the square from a few of the girls. I am not part of this group, but I admit I am making a strange, tiny squeaky sound all my own. The time has finally come, the day we have all been anticipating.

A small crowd of girls, including me, breaks away from the crowd and begins to follow the small procession of royalty. Families are waving goodbye, shouting good wishes and hopes for good fortune with His Highness. Mom smiles at me proudly as I slowly make my way away from her and my father. At the last minute, Dad hands me a package. "You may need this, muffin," he says (he only calls me 'muffin' on special occasions; this must count.)

I take it, wondering what it is but having a few ideas. "Thanks," I say, "I love you guys. Goodbye."

"You will accomplish great things, Lidia," Mom calls after me as I join the moving crowd of other teenaged girls, "You can be anything you want to be. You just have to try."

Her words fill me with a new feeling of warmth. Mom always seems to know what to say.

We are moving away from the square now. I clutch my little package to my chest; it is my final bit of home. The final gift my parents have given me before I head out into the world.

With a final glance backward, I leave my old life behind.

 

The palace isn't far, so the crowd of girls following the royal family walk the whole way. I don't mind; exercise has always been one of my favorite things to do.

Many of the girls around me are dressed in their best clothes, usually saved for parades and other special town events. Others, like me, are wearing their regular work clothes. Surprisingly, it doesn't seem to make a difference. We are not townspeople with varying levels of importance and different amounts of money; today we are all princesses. Today we are all worth a little more than we were before.

As I think of this, I subconsciously hug the package closer to my chest. I still don't know what it is, but it must be something good, because otherwise my dad wouldn't make me take it to the palace. Seriously, everything we own is that crappy.

As I'm lost in thought, everyone stops and His Highness calls out, "We've arrived. Jerald will show you all to the dining area."

A smart-looking butler, who I only catch a glimpse of through the moving crowd of girls much taller than me, bows crisply and leads us into the palace. We all follow him, muttering to ourselves excitedly.

The dining room is  _ enormous, _ about three times the size of the flat above the cobbler's shop. I feel my eyes widen, and I have to make a conscious effort to keep my jaw from dropping at the sheer size and beauty of the room. 

_ For only having a couple of weeks' notice to build this thing,  _ I think,  _ The townspeople sure did a splendid job.  _ A slow grin spreads across my face as I take in the gleaming finish on the dark mahogany table.

Jerald pulls out the seventy or so chairs around the table, and various girls settle down in them. I sit next to Fiona and a girl I don't know that well. I think she's a maid in the nobles' section of Gleeway, but I'm not sure.

Finally, Owen walks in and we all stand up again. He smiles as he walks to his seat at the head of the table, flashing blindingly white teeth. I notice he's changed into a midnight blue suit of beautiful silk, which goes well with his hair.

"Good evening, ladies," Owen says courteously, executing a crisp bow and taking his seat. We all sit as well when he waves us to our seats. A couple of girls giggle, but most of us nod our heads politely and place our hands in our laps shyly.

Jerald walks in with four more smartly dressed men and women who are holding trays of drinks. They set one in front of each of us, and I sniff mine. Some kind of wine, I think, but I have never smelled this kind before.

Owen smiles as his glass is placed in front of him. "A special drink for celebration," he says, "It's an import from Tazlax, called  _ Chardono dy Vasli _ ."

"Is it wine?" Fiona asks quietly from my left, looking slightly worried.

Owen laughs. "Not exactly," he explains, "It's sort of its own kind of liquor."

Fiona bites her lip. Jerald notices and claps his hands, a crisp, loud sound that echoes slightly in the large room. Another maid appears, a glass of something else in her hand.

Owen takes a sip of his  _ Chardono dy Vasli _ . "If you're underage, we can bring you this instead. Pressed greva juice?"

Fiona looks relieved. "Thank you," she says with a small smile, and takes the juice from the maid, who curtsies.

I'm curious as to what the  _ Chardono  _ tastes like; luckily, I turned 18 two months ago. I take my goblet and take a tiny, experimental sip.

The alcohol washes over my tongue with a distinctly sharp flavor, though it doesn't burn my throat like most liquors. It leaves a fruity aftertaste, laced with a little bit of. . . chocolate? Whatever it is, it's good.

I smile. "Your Highness," I say quietly, "This drink is quite piquant!"

He smiles back, though it looks a bit shy. Strange. "Why, I'm glad you agree, Miss. . ."

"Garryl. Lidia Garryl."

"You're right, it is very delicious, Miss Garryl."

"It tastes like it was mixed with something."

He laughs a little. "Why yes, that is what makes it such a famous Tazlaxian drink. It is infused with a little bit of gryphon milk."

I nod. That must be the reason for the lack of burning, as well as the chocolatey aftertaste.

My goblet is soon empty, and Jerald graciously refills it for me. The hall is filled with buzzing conversations and ringing laughter. I look around the enormous room, still feeling wonder at how quickly the townspeople put it together.

After my fourth glass of  _ Chardono dy Vasli _ , I'm starting to feel slightly lightheaded. Along with a few other girls, I excuse myself from the table and am led to a plush sleeping chamber by Jerald and his servants.

Quickly changing into a lovely nightgown provided by the servants, I flop onto the bed and quickly fall asleep.


	11. I Dreamt of You

I open my eyes to find myself in a strange world of swirling colors. I look down and find my feet, clad in rough wooden shoes, standing on. . . nothing.  I try to scream but my voice is sucked away, and I hear nothing but silence.

I wander around, stepping gingerly as I am still nervous about falling. I have no idea where I am, and the colors whirling around me are disorienting, making me dizzy and frustrated.

Suddenly something shiny appears in front of me. I can see my reflection in it, though the image in front of me cannot  _ possibly  _ be me. Her hair is slicked into a fancy, light-brown bun that sits at the crown of her head. Her makeup is done to perfection, the pale colors making her dark eyes pop. 

But the most shocking thing is the dress. It is a beautiful, light-teal color, decorated with tiny blue and green roses sewn onto the tight bodice. It is sleeveless and strapless, and the light skirt fans out around the pretty girl in the shape of a lily. Her arms and hands, small and delicate, are encased in beautiful silk gloves.

As I reach out a tentative hand to touch the shiny mirror-like thing, I notice my hand is bare. No glove adorns my fingers. I blink, more confused than ever, as my fingertips brush the surface of the mirror.

_ She will change the kingdom forever.  _

I whirl around. The whispery male voice seems like it has come from right next to me-- but I see nothing but colors. 

"What  _ is  _ this place?" I whisper, terrified and confused. I cannot even hear myself, as my words are whisked away from my mouth as soon as they are said.

No answer from anywhere. I step away from the mirror and it disappears. I walk a little farther in the dizzying world of colors, and another mirror pops up in front of me.

This girl looks more like me. Her unruly brown curls hang about her face, and she is dressed in a simple cotton dress that hangs to her knees. She wears sturdy work boots and her hands are calloused from hard work.

_ She will remain unnoticed. _

The voice, again! I turn my head quickly but find no one. I quickly hop away from the second mirror, and immediately another springs up.

This girl terrifies me. Her hair is pulled back into a simple braid, but her dark eyes are wild and her face sunken. She wears a simple tunic and leggings, with shin-length black boots that lace in a complicated pattern. Her fingers are covered in blood.

_ She will kill the ones she most loves. _

I scream, my voice sucked away once again. Closing my eyes, I turn and  _ run _ . I run blindly for a long time, trying to keep my tears in. I will  _ not  _ cry. Not here.

I run smack into something solid. Solid and warm. It moves slightly, and then I feel arms wrap around my shoulders.

I look up and gasp.

Rupert? Here? But how?

He looks at me, his deep green eyes concerned. I hear his voice as if from a long distance: "Lidia, I'm not who you're looking for."

"What do you mean?" I reply desperately.

He shakes his head and pries himself from my grip. Then he leans down and his lips brush mine.

The very first kiss he has ever given me. . . and the last.

He shakes his head, his eyes sad, and walks off into the abyss of color. I feel a sudden, crushing loss, and I sink down to my knees. My eyes are still fixed on the place where he has disappeared, wide and full of tears.

I lift my head to the heavens and scream, "Why??"

The colors quickly fade to black, until I am alone in suffocating darkness.

A different voice, deep and haunting, whispers, "You will be mine."

I try to scream but something keeps me from doing so. I whimper instead.

A strange, guttural screech sounds from somewhere around me, and I hear footfalls. Something is approaching.

I curl into a tight ball and whimper some more.

"Lidia! Lidia, wake up!" Shouts a different voice.

And everything disappears. I lay in a plush bed, the sheets tangled in my arms and legs, sweat and tears mixing on my face. Two young women peer at me, concern in their faces.

"I'm. . . I'm all right," I say, sitting up. The maids smile in relief and go to work around my large room, preparing something I can't see.

Once I'm sure they're not looking, I raise my hand to my mouth. I can still feel the soft tingle of Rupert's lips touching mine.


	12. Father's Package

Turns out, the thing the maids have been preparing is my dress for the day. I've been hoping I get to wear plain-ish dresses most of the time, but this outfit is stunning. Formal.  _ Beautiful _ .

I don't even mind that it's way more than I was hoping for. I gasp, my dark eyes going wide at the sight of the pale orange skirts and creamy bodice. One of my two maids, Cassi, shyly holds up a pair of cream slippers.

I clap my hands delightedly. "This is amazing," I squeak, "How in Terrex did you get this?"

My other maid, Genna, smiles. "You have a whole wardrobe, miss. Picked out by the Queen herself, miss."

I blink. I can hardly believe it. "Everybody else does too, I presume?"

"Of course, miss," Cassi says with a grin, "The Queen is always fair."

I nod. "Of course," I say. I would have hated to be the only one with such gorgeous outfits, so hearing that everybody else got the same treatment is a relief.

"Now let us help you put it on," Genna says excitedly. 

I laugh. "Sure, why not? I have no experience anyway."

 

I walk into the enormous sitting room where everybody else is, careful not to trip on my skirts. I'm just not used to something this voluminous, but apparently it's the style here for your hips to look big.

I pass Fiona, who is dressed in a beautiful dress of the same style as mine, her sizable skirts a vibrant red color with an ebony bodice. Her smile is radiant as she turns to look at me. 

"Hi!" She calls, "Did you sleep well?"

"Well enough," I call back, "I woke up relatively early."

She looks impressed. "Didn't you get drunk at all from the  _ Chardono _ ?"

I shrug. "Just a little buzzed," I say casually. "It was diluted quite a bit."

"Man. How did it taste?"

"Wonderful, like fruit with a hint of chocolate."

She nods, looking slightly jealous.  _ Maybe I could sneak her some sometime,  _ I think,  _ I mean, she's not  _ that  _ much underage.  _

Another girl, a merchant's daughter named Kavina, walks up in her own gown. She carefully tucks a loose strand of dark hair into her fancy updo and frowns, looking around with a confused look on her face.

"You two wouldn't have any idea where the Prince is, would you?" She asks, "I haven't seen him all morning."

I shrug. "He's probably busy doing stuff with the King."

Kavina frowns and crosses her arms. "He should spend more time with us," she grumbles, "The only time I've seen him was at dinner."

Fiona blinks. "He's got other responsibilities," she says, "He can't just run off whenever he wants to. You've got to remember that he's going to be the King someday." Then she realizes what she has said, blushes, and shrinks a bit. She's not used to being so bold.

Kavina's frown lightens a bit. "That's true I guess. Anyways, have you two seen Lillith yet? She doesn't seem too happy about being here."

"Lillith?" I ask blankly. "Who's that?"

Kavina smiles a bit. "She lived in western Gleeway, kind of far from where we lived. But she used to live next to me before she moved. We were. . . good friends."

"Oh. Well, why isn't she happy about being here?"

The merchant's daughter bites her lip. "Um, well, she isn't really. . . attracted to Owen. She has other interests."

"How could she not be attracted to him?" Fiona asks incredulously. "He's  _ gorgeous _ ."

"As I said, Lillith has other interests."

That seems like all she's going to say, so I give up. "Has she asked to go home?"

"Well, that's why I'm looking for Owen. Lillith doesn't want to go up to him herself, so she asked me to. But I can't find the Prince anywhere."

"He'll come here eventually," says another voice, marked by a crisp Tazlaxian accent. We all turn, startled, to find a matronly woman standing near us. She smiles kindly at the three of us and says, "Terribly sorry to frighten you all. I'm Jonna Thayer. I will be taking care of all you girls for the duration of your stay."

"Pleasure to meet you, Ms. Thayer," Kavina says with a small curtsy. 

The woman smiles again. "Oh, call me Jonna. We're all like family here, aren't we?"

"I guess so," Fiona says shyly, playing with the silk on her skirt.

I come to her rescue. "Oh yes, Jonna. It's good to meet you."

Jonna walks up to me and smiles even wider. "Ooh, you're a pretty one, aren't you? What's your name?"

"Lidia Garryl. Thank you, but I think Fiona's more likely to catch Owen's attention. She's far more beautiful than me."

"You're all beautiful here," Jonna says, "And don't you go thinking otherwise, Lidia."

I bow my head. "Yes, Ma'am."

Jonna smiles. “That’s more like it. Oh,” she says suddenly, as if just remembering, “Have you three had breakfast yet?”

Kavina nods, but Fiona and I shake our heads. Jonna takes us by our forearms and tugs us over to the door. “Now, it wouldn’t do for two perfectly pretty young ladies to go without breakfast, now would it?”

“Of-- of course not, Jonna,” Fiona stammers.

Jonna starts scolding us fondly. I try but fail to get a word in edgewise, then just smile, deciding that I like this woman. She's got spirit.

 

I enjoy a nice breakfast of sweet pastries, then go up to my room to do some exploring. I was sure there were more chambers in there, though I had only seen the bedchamber so far.

I have poked around enough to find a bathroom, a walk-in closet, and a small sitting room when I remember the package.

It's sitting on my bed, still tightly wrapped. My maids must have found it and assumed it was important.

I pick it up and sit on my mattress, but I can't bring myself to open it. Father has given this to me; what if it is just a pair of simple shoes?

I'm being silly. I shake off my doubts and pull on the string holding the brown paper together. It falls away, and I carefully open the paper without tearing it.

When I see what's inside, my eyes go wide and tear up. My hand covers my mouth as memories rush back.

How could they have chosen  _ this  _ as a gift? How could they have thought this would make me happy?

The opened package slips from my trembling fingers to the floor, and its contents spill out. The floor is covered in a length of feathery-edged, cream-white silk edged with pearls, but I don't care. I want to step all over it, ruin it.

Rupert's voice rings in my head every time I look at it.  _ "And if you need help deciding on the color, I'll be wearing dark green." "We're not going to the dance."   _ And, the worst of all:  _ "My father always says I need a little variety in my life." _

The tears in my eyes spill over, and I quickly look away from the beautiful dress on the floor. The dress that my mother had somehow made in a day's time, without a single measurement. The dress that I had been going to wear to the school dance. The dress that Rupert had never even glimpsed because he broke. . . up. . . with. . . me.

 

I lay back on my bed and bury my face in my pillow, letting my tears dampen the fabric. I must lay there for hours before anyone even notices.


	13. Can't Forget Him

A small, cool hand touches my shoulder, and a voice just as small says, "Lidia, are you alright?"

I sit up. Cassi sits next to me, looking worried.

"Are you homesick?" She asks, concerned.

I shake my head and dry my face. "The. . .the dress. It made me remember. . . what was once, but will never be again."

She sighs and stares at the dress. "I've never seen anything like it before. Where'd you get it?"

"My mom made it for me. For. . . a dance."

Cassi nods as if she understands. "I'm sorry," she says, giving my shoulder a quick squeeze, "The past isn't always what we wish it was."

I nod too, just a bit. As I wipe away the last of my tears, I realize how  _ good  _ it felt to cry just now.

Genna enters, and when she sees me and Cassi she comes over real quick. "What's up?" She asks, concerned.

"Lidia says that this dress reminded her of. . . what was it again, Lidia?" Cassi looks at me in a strangely motherly way, her arm around my slumped shoulders.

"What once was, but will never be again," I repeat numbly, staring at the fallen dress.

Genna comes over and looks me in the eyes. She looks a little sad, but her expression is full of pure love and caring. She'd make a great mom herself.

"Lidia, maybe we should put this dress away?" Genna asks me gently. I nod, and she carefully picks up the cream-colored gown.

Cassi's eyes widen and she gasps. "Whoa, your mom's got talent," she whispers, but then blushes. "Sorry."

I shake my head. "It's alright," I mutter, "She does. She's good with making things."

Cassi's short black hair tickles my face as she leans over to give me a side hug. I hug her back. It feels good and I feel myself smile a little.

Genna comes back and hugs me as well. "I put it in the very back of your closet," she says, "Where you can forget about it. The present is what's most important right now, that and winning the Prince's heart."

"You'd better win his heart," Cassi teases softly, "All the maids have a bet going to see whose girl gets picked."

I manage a smile. "Thanks, Cassi and Genna. You're the best."

"Feel free to come to us if anything else is bothering you," Genna says gently, "We keep good secrets."

A bell rings from somewhere below us, and Cassi frowns. "A meeting of all the staff? What's this all about?"

"I guess we'll find out," Genna says, "Let's go, Cass."

Cassi gives my shoulder one last squeeze, and then she and Genna are gone.

With them goes my comfort-- I am left alone again. Sighing, I kick out my foot… and hear something hard shift on the floor.

Curious, I lean down and pick up a framed photograph. In it is my mother and father, with me and Tierstyn in the center. The picture had been taken about four years ago, when I was fourteen and Tierstyn sixteen.

I haven't seen this picture since it was taken.  _ It must have fallen out of the package with the dress,  _ I thought,  _ Otherwise, how would it have gotten here? _

I carefully place the photo on my nightstand with a small smile. Then I get up to redo my makeup before lunch-- I don't want Jonna to scold me about presentability.

I look in the mirror and notice that my hair is askew, then sigh.  _ Note to self: Never cry in bed right before lunchtime in a palace. _

Completely giving up on my hair, I take out all of the pins and rubber bands holding it in place, letting it cascade across my shoulders. I know I can't just leave it like that, for symbolism purposes, so I secure it in a low, elegant bun held with a few glittery pins. Then I get down to the real business: my makeup.

I somehow manage to make it look okay, even though I've never been good with makeup. Smiling at my reflection, I spray my hair with shine spray and smooth my dress.

Finally feeling presentable, I hurry down to lunch before I'm late.

The dining room is already full of girls, but Owen hasn't shown up yet, so I'm still early. I sit in an empty seat next to Fiona and listen to what the other girls are saying.

"Well," a girl with platinum-blond hair and big hazel eyes is saying, "If he's not going to show up to meet us, what's the point in us being here?"

"He comes to meals," a girl with thick, shiny black hair argues, "He's probably just busy with prince stuff. I'm sure he'll come visit us in the sitting room sometime."

I look over at Fiona. She's just sitting there, staring at her empty plate as if lost in thought. She looks almost sad, but I can't see any reason why she should be.

"Fiona?" I ask. She doesn't stir, doesn't acknowledge my presence at all. I'm just wondering if she's alright when the door opens and all goes silent.

The Prince has arrived for another meal, all smiles as usual. Today he's dressed in forest green.

Quickly I look down at my plate. Why does everything remind me of  _ him _ ?

"Hello, my ladies," Owen says brightly, "I trust Jonna has treated you well this fine morning?"

There is a general murmur of assent from the girls. I look around the table at all its occupants.

Most are smiling, but I notice one girl who isn't even looking at Owen. Her hair is dark red, and she has long bangs that hang almost in her ice-blue eyes. She's staring not at Owen, but at. . . Fiona?

Okay. That’s a bit strange. I notice that Fiona is looking at Owen, but keeps shooting glances at the girl with the bangs. Thoroughly confused and weirded out, I turn my attention back to Owen.

He's smiling, an adorable lopsided grin. . . I quickly look down at my plate again, biting my lip. I realize I'm very angry with myself: I'm supposed to be  _ over  _ with Rupert. I never realized I would still want him this much after he broke up with me so suddenly and then wouldn't even look at me when Owen came to our town square. Sure, I knew I'd miss him; but still longing for him, even in the Prince's presence? That can get me arrested if people know.

Something the Prince says gets my attention. "Tomorrow, I will most likely have time to come get to know all of you. I will finish my duties with my father and then head to the sitting room to chat with you girls."

A few girls cheer; others simply giggle. I smile distractedly; I'm too busy studying the strange staring contest going on between Bangs Girl and Fiona. Just as I'm wondering what on Terrex is going on with these two, the kitchen doors open and servers enter with our lunch. Owen smiles again, and I notice dimples push into his cheeks. Just like my sketch, what seems like so long ago.

We finish eating, excited conversation buzzing through the room, and Owen leaves to finish some business with his father. The girls slowly trickle out of the room, and I follow slowly. I don't miss that Fiona and Bangs Girl are the only two left at the table.


	14. Interlude 2: Owen

"Your Majesty, I have received reports from the north that Cutthroat Sam and his gang have been sighted multiple times and have burned down at least one village so far."

Owen's father, King Martin Rupert Jasper Horatio Tobias Elijah James, sighs and looks at the mosaic tiled on the ceiling. Owen knows how he feels; he himself had been sure the pirates had disappeared forever.

The nervous-looking messenger, who doesn't seem to notice his left cheek is cut and bleeding, bows quickly and exits the audience chamber. The king snaps his fingers, and Jerald steps in smartly.

The king points to the drips of blood the messenger has left on the marble tiles. "Clean that up, Jerald," he orders, "And then take a break. You're looking tired out."

Jerald bows just as smartly as he stepped in, and pulls a crisp handkerchief from his sleeve. He quickly cleans up the mess, bows again, and leaves, all without saying a word.

_ He rarely speaks at all,  _ Owen thinks,  _ I wonder if there's a reason behind that, or if it's just butler protocol.  _

The prince is jostled out of his reverie by another messenger's voice, panicky and high-pitched. Owen blinks and looks at the person addressing his father.

Curious. He has never seen a woman messenger before. This one has short dark hair that frames a thin, pale face. She is tall, but bent double, breathing hard from a long sprint. Her stormy gray eyes are wide with fear as she struggles to get words out.

"Sire. . ." she pants, "The north. . .eastern edge of. . . Devia. . . has been. . . breached."

Owen's father sits up straighter. "Breached by whom?" he asks urgently. The matter of his kingdom is of the utmost importance to the king. Owen supposes that it should be to him as well, but at the moment the most important thing to him is finding a suitable wife.   
  
The messenger shakes her head grimly. "Your Majesty, it is the. . . pirates that we all thought. . . your armies had killed."   
  
King Martin sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, as if he has a headache. Owen doesn't doubt that he does. All this business about Cutthroat Sam and his followers, apparently back from the dead? Heck, it's enough to give Owen a headache, and he doesn't even completely understand it all yet.   
  
"Sire?" The messenger woman asks uncertainly.   
  
The king doesn't look up as he waves her away. "Thank you, Marissa. I will think on this."   
  
She curtsies and leaves, leaving the audience chamber in a momentary, blissful silence.

King Martin turns to Owen with a troubled expression on his face. “Son, I believe it’s time for you to learn some things.”

“Pardon, father, but what things?” Owen replies.

“You need to learn the whole story behind these pirates.”

Owen reaches up to adjust his circlet nervously. “Right now?”

The king shakes his head. “No, I have other audiences booked. I’ll pull you aside later. In the meantime, I’m giving you a break. You have a few hours to get to know the girls before dinner.”

“Yes, sir,” Owen says, standing from his seat and bowing to his father before quietly exiting the room.

Once outside, Owen stops to consider. He knows where the girls are, but he needs to figure out which one he wants to talk to first. The young girl who had refused the  _ Chardono  _ last night? The pretty blonde who seems so carefree?

_ One thing’s for certain,  _ Owen thinks to himself,  _ I can’t confront the girl with the chocolate eyes. She was nice last night, but her eyes are full of steel.  _

What had her name been?  _ Lidia Garryl. That’s right.  _ A strong Gleeway name for an unreachable Gleeway girl. What a shame, too: Lidia is one of the prettier girls of the bunch.   
  
_ I'll start with Fiona and continue from there,  _ Owen finally decides, setting off towards the large sitting room where all the girls are to spend their mornings.

He knocks on the light wooden door and waits patiently outside as he hears people moving around inside. A matronly woman he recognizes as Jonna Thayer, his old nanny, opens the door. She smiles at him warmly and invites him inside, and he steps into the room smartly.

A few girls run up to Owen, giggling. One of them, the pretty blonde from last night, flashes a smile.

"Hi, I'm Lilita Vann," she says. Her friends giggle. Owen raises his eyebrows at them and they stop giggling, curtsying quickly. He chuckles inwardly at these silly girls. 

Owen starts walking with Lilita, striking up conversation. Her big green eyes sparkle with humor, but Owen soon learns that it is a sort of vicious humor.

_ I'll talk to my father about getting some of these girls sent home,  _ Owen thinks to himself,  _ I don't want a vicious wife. Or a shy one. Or a giggly one.  _

He goes around the room, looking for Fiona to talk with her. Strangely, she is nowhere to be found. Confused, Owen goes up to Jonna and asks after the youngest girl.

"She said she felt sick," Jonna says, "She's up in her room. But don't go up there, honey. Your mother would have a fit if you did."

"Wasn't planning on it," Owen replies with a smile.

_ Okay,  _ he thinks,  _ Fiona's out of the question. Ah, here's a bunch of girls I can talk to.  _

He walks over to them, feeling a bit awkward at intruding but hiding it well. "Hello, ladies," he says, "How has your day been so far?"

They giggle. One of them, a tall girl with a long auburn braid, says, “Absolutely fantastic, Your Highness.”

Owen smiles at them all. A shorter girl with shiny dark hair bats her eyelashes at him. "Oh, Your Highness, you wouldn't mind staying for luncheon?"

Owen checks his watch. "My apologies, girls, but I have a political meeting with my father in a moment."

"Shame," said the auburn-haired girl with a sigh.

The third girl in the group has wavy blonde hair that cascades over her shoulders. Her deep green eyes sparkle with cheer as she grins at the Prince.

"We should introduce ourselves," she says in a smooth voice, "I'm Marella."

The dark-haired young lady giggles. "I'm Victoria. I go by Tori though."

"My name is Olivia," says the taller girl with the auburn braid, giving Owen a seductive smile.

Owen bows to all three of them. "Welcome to the Leisure Palace, Marella, Tori, and Olivia."

They curtsy back, then go off again, giggling as girls do. Owen is just about to go off to find some more girls to talk to when he hears a messenger boy's voice: "Prince Owen, His Majesty requests your presence."

"Excellent," Owen replies, "Tell him I'm on my way."


	15. Completely Alone

It is like I am a ghost. Owen is free more often nowadays, but each time he comes down to see us he doesn't even glance my way, even once. Am I that unappealing? Cassi says he's just shy, but he seems to be confident, even bold, around all the other girls.

It is unfair. I wish I am more beautiful, more noticeable. Most of all I wish I had never come, that Rupert had never broken up with me.

These thoughts chase me wherever I go, 24/7. Depression weighs me down, and so I spend most of my time locked up in my room, curled up on my bed, crying. Cassi and Genna can do little to help me, though they try everything in their power. They talk to Owen about it but can glean little from what they hear. They comfort me, tell me stories, but nothing, nothing helps.

I feel like no one in the world can understand my pain. I feel like a misfit, a stick-out in a world of beauty and love. I have nobody.

One day Genna comes in with a bundle of something in her arms. She touches my shoulder, as I am lying on my bed and staring at nothing. I startle back to the present, and Genna places the bundle on my bed.

"Your parents sent this with a note," she explains, "They say you left it at home and you may need it."

"For what?" I mumble, picking up the package curiously. Genna smiles and places a small envelope on top of the paper in my lap.

I rip it open and unfold a small piece of paper, which is full of my mother's cramped cursive. It reads:

_ Lidia: _

_ You left your lucky dress at home, and we thought you might need some luck from home! We hope you are enjoying your time at our very own Leisure Palace! We love you, and remember that, when times get hard, it's not always because you're doing something wrong. Keep moving forward, and you will achieve great things! _

_ Love, Mom and Dad _

I put my hand to my face and find, to my surprise, that my cheek is wet. I'm. . . crying? Genna places an arm around me and smiles. "They thought of you," she whispers, "at exactly the right time, now didn't they?"

My laugh sounds brittle and wet, even to me. "Yeah."

I unwrap the paper bundle and a short, sea-green dress slips out onto my comforter. I am suddenly and forcefully reminded of the  _ other  _ time my parents sent me a dress. . .

I blink back my fresh tears and shake my head at myself. I will  _ not  _ go back to that.  _ Ever _ .

Cassi pokes her head in. "Lidia? Would you like to come down for tea today? Mistress Jonna has been asking after you for days."

I sit up, then look down at my wrinkled nightdress. "I can't go out in  _ this _ ," I protest.

Genna giggles at that. "What is this for?" She holds up my lucky dress with a twinkle in her eye.

"Oh fine." I laugh, really laugh, for the first time in what feels like ages. I grab the dress from Genna, then slide off my bed onto wobbly legs that haven't seen hard floor for days. My maids are laughing at me as I slowly hobble to the bathroom to change.

 

As I follow Cassi down to the sitting room, I start to feel a bit self-conscious of my simple dress. Everyone else is wearing their fancy clothes, and I begin to feel underdressed, but Cassi takes my hand and squeezes. "You got this, Lidia. Be yourself, you will shine brighter than the rest."

I take a deep breath and try to take her advice to heart as we enter the large painted doors.

Stares are pointed at me from every direction, making my skin crawl and my heartbeat quicken. I shrink back a little, but Cassi's steadying hand keeps me going.

"There you are!" The voice makes me jump, but I recognize its owner immediately. No one else here has the same motherly and yet businesslike tone, that same crisp accent.

"Jonna!" I say with a small smile. Jonna comes up and, unexpectedly, wraps me in a bear hug. Trying to breathe, I hug her back. The smile on my face has grown to a grin. How could I not love Jonna?

"We've missed you down here, Miss Garryl," Jonna says softly, "Some of the girls have been bored without your conversation."

"But, I've barely talked to any of them!"

"Hush and listen, child. Fiona's been in a right state, looking all over for you. Kavina too. Those girls seem to like what you have to say."

"I've been, uh, sick," I fib, too embarrassed to tell them that all this time I've just been crying my eyes out like a child. Jonna, however, doesn't buy my flimsy lie and gives me a stern look.

"Deception doesn't become you, my dear. Don't be afraid, come now."

A girl walks up to me, and I recognize her as Bangs Girl from last night. She taps me on the shoulder shyly. "Um, hi," she mumbles, "I'm Lillith."

"Hi," I reply, a little surprised that she's talking to  _ me _ . "Lidia."

"So, Fiona's your friend, right?"

"Yeah, so to speak. We haven't talked much, but we live near each other."

She nods, still looking quite shy of me. "So, um." She says, staring at her feet.

"Yes?"

She opens and closes her mouth a few times, then blushes. "Nevermind."

I shrug. "If you ever want to talk to me about stuff, feel free," I say, trying to sound as loving as I feel. This poor girl. . . from what I've heard, she doesn't even want to be here.

I'll ask Kavina about it later. . . at the moment I'm just trying to get a little reacquainted with people here. As I look around I realize something: The sitting room seems a bit. . . less crowded. Like some girls left. Owen must have sent some home already.

My eyes widen. Some girls have been sent home already! Panicking slightly, I look wildly around the room. This fact, coupled with Lillith's strange interaction with me, is enough to worry me. I search frantically, my heart beating fast. In my head I whisper  _ Please, please, please. _

My eyes fix upon one blonde-haired girl, sitting alone on a love seat with a magazine lying on her lap. I let my shoulders relax: Fiona is still here. After the fact I wonder why I was so worried-- she and I aren't super close. Perhaps it is because she is the only one I know well.

I look around again, this time to find someone new to talk to. As I do so it hits me-- even with some girls gone, there are still a lot of them. All here, in this room. And almost none of them are my friends.

The feeling of loneliness crushes my heart again, and I tug on Cassi's hand. "Can we go back now?"

"Now? But why? We just got here, Lidia."

"I really don't feel like socializing right now."

"If you insist. Just let me go tell Jonna quick. I'll be right back."

"Okay." As she walks away I walk tentatively up to the love seat Fiona's sitting on, and sit next to her. She looks up at me with her dark green eyes. . . the same eyes of her brother.

Her brother, who used to be my love.

"I. . ." I stammer, then lower my gaze. "Sorry, Fiona. I'm not feeling at my best today."

Surprisingly, she scoots over closer to me and puts a small hand on my shoulder. "It's alright, Lidia. I feel the same way. Just do what you have to do."

I look up and see understanding in her eyes. Understanding, and a bit of sadness.

She sighs. "I get letters from Rupert all the time. He's always asking after you, you know. He'll never forget you, just remember that."

I'm trying my best not to cry. Fiona gives me a quick sidearm hug and whispers, "Go ahead and cry if you want to. I find it helps if you get it all out."

At that exact moment Cassi comes back. "Let's go, Lidia."

"All right," I reply, standing slowly. "Oh, and Fiona?"

She looks at me with a soft smile. "Yes?"

"Thank you." The words come out in a whisper, but Fiona hears me just fine. She tears up and nods at me with a tremulous smile, then turns away, back to her magazine.

Cassi tugs my hand again. "I thought you  _ wanted  _ to go back to your room," she says with a wink. I only reward her tease with a half-smile, and the two of us return to my bedchamber.


	16. A Dangerous Plan

The Prince doesn't want me. That much is certain. But then. . . why does he keep me here? Why does he torture me so, ignoring me, but tempting me with possibilities? Giving me richness and splendor but none of his attentions?

This is what kills me. It makes me angry and confused. So I do what I suspect he has wanted me to do all along: hide in my chambers all day, every day. My parents write to me, telling me they hope I'm having a splendid time with the amazing Red Haired Prince, but I don't have the heart to write back and break the bad news.

Cassi tries fruitlessly to get me to go downstairs and socialize again, to the point where I am annoyed, and my maids are exasperated. Finally Genna gets an idea.

"You should go take a walk outside, clear your head. I know that helps me when I'm upset."

When I tell her that I'm not sure I'm allowed to go outside, she just giggles. "Oh, you are allowed to go," she says, "It's just that, proper young ladies don't usually  _ want  _ to go outside and dirty their skirts."

"Well, don't count me as a proper young lady then," I say with a slight smirk. "I would love to go take a walk."

Cassi and Genna smile at each other, and Cassi proposes that the two maids come with me on my walk. Feeling hopeful, I follow them down past the sitting room, down a corridor that I have only seen once before: when we had arrived here in the first place.

We reach the doors, and I can't help but hesitate. But Cassi takes my arm gently and lightly guides me through the door into bright sunlight.

I blink in surprise at the brightness; I hadn't realized just how dim the Palace is inside. Cassi and Genna laugh at my stupor, but I shake out of it quickly and find myself with a huge smile.

"I'd forgotten just how beautiful and freeing the outside world can be," Genna muses. I lean down and brush my finger across a blade of grass, then pick a small flower and twirl it between my fingers.

"I miss my home," I whisper, feeling a sudden rush of melancholy at this beautiful air and greenery. I can't help but remember the scenery back in town, the lush grasses, the vibrant colors of trees in autumn. Crunching through leaves on my way to school as a child. Making tiny snow children in winter with Rupert.

Rupert.

Tears come to my eyes, but Genna takes my arm and guides me away from the gardens. "You'll be happier outside the gates, I think," she muses. "Just don't tell anyone. Jonna will fuss over you for days, thinking you've caught some sort of weird sickness from the outside world. It's a habit of hers."

 

"We won't accompany you out there," Cassi says, "It's strictly forbidden for maids to leave the premises, but it's merely discouraged for guests like you."

"All right." I force a smile. It will be good for me to get out and about, anyways.

We say our goodbyes and my maids head back to the makeshift Palace. I stand in front of the gate for quite a while, trying to muster up the courage to go through. A voice in my head that sounds suspiciously like my mother whispers,  _ You'll never know what's out there unless you pass through.  _

I reach out with a slightly trembling hand, and push open the painted wooden gates. A cool wind washes over me, pushing my hair back from my head and my simple dress back from my body.

I step through, and the ropes binding my heart break. I feel free at last, free as the breeze that flows around me.

"Hello," says a surprised voice from my left. I jump, and before I can stop it, a squeak comes out of my mouth.

The voice chuckles. It sounds painfully familiar. . .

I spin around and come face to face with someone I never thought I would speak to again.

He gives me a nervous smile. "Hi. . .?"

My eyes fill with tears  _ again _ . What is up with me today?

He suddenly looks worried. "No, don't cry. It's all right. I'm. . . I'm just. Well. I was just out for a walk around town. I never thought I'd meet you here."

"I never thought you would talk to me ever again," I whisper. "Oh Rupert, why do you torture me so?"

My ex-boyfriend now looks concerned. "What? Have they hurt you? Has  _ he _ hurt you?"

"No. . . well, yes. But that's not my point!"

"Then what is, Lidia? If he's hurting you, you need to get away."

I push away his comforting hand. "You can never understand," I say quietly.

"I can try," he replies, just as stubborn as I remember.

I know from experience that Rupert won't give up until I tell him, so I decide to take the less aggravating and time-consuming choice: I tell him everything.

I am in tears by the end of it, and Rupert looks concerned, almost guilty. He hesitantly puts his arms around my shoulders and I bury my face in his broad chest.

"I am so, so sorry, Lidia," he whispers into my hair, "I swear, if I'd have known sooner. . ."

I look up. "If we're found together, there will be serious consequences for both of us," I warn him quietly.

He stares into my eyes for a few moments, and then a smile appears on his face. "Don't worry," he assures me, "We won't be found together."

I'm confused, but when I tell him so he just laughs.

"I have a plan, My Lady," he whispers, tugging gently on a curly lock of my hair.

"And what would this plan be, Sir Rupert?" I tease him, getting even for that title.

"My father owns a cabin by the seashore, but he never uses it." Rupert explains, a gleam in his eye. "News has reached town that pirates are nearing our coast, which is bad news for most of us.  _ But _ , we can use that to our advantage here."

"The seashore is a mere stroll from here," I muse. "What of the palace?"

"It's a makeshift, so no great loss if it's destroyed. But we're not talking about the actual pirates here-- This is about winning that Redhead's affection, Lidia."

"Well then, what in Terrex does a seaside cabin have to do with my sorry love life?"

"It's all part of my plan." He proceeds to explain just what he is up to.

My eyes widen. "Nope. Nuh-uh. Not a chance, Buster," I say vehemently, poking his chest sharply with my finger, "You want to leave me in a cabin, tied to a chair,  _ alone _ , until a search party finds me? Well, I. . . I'd sooner love a  _ snake  _ than go through with that plan!"

"Well," my ex-boyfriend smirks, "It's the only plan we've got. Unless you wish to entice him in a. . . more obvious way."

"Um, that's out of the question, Rupert." I feel myself blush, understanding his implication perfectly.

He seems pleased at my embarrassment. I resist the urge to roll my eyes (that will only give him more pleasure), and cross my arms.

Grudgingly I admit the cabin  _ is  _ our best plan, which only serves to make Rupert annoyingly cheerful. Gosh, when did he get so obnoxious?

"Meet me back here tomorrow evening," Rupert tells me, "same place, at maybe seven. If you can, bring a handkerchief or two, and wear older clothes."

"All right," I sigh, still a bit grumpy. Rupert gives me one of his lopsided grins and pulls away from me.

"Goodbye, Lidia."

"Goodbye, Rupert."

Then, he's gone.


	17. Pirates!

It's been two days since the first encounter, and already I have hope. Rupert has shown me the cabin and rehearsed the plan and my script many times. I can feel excitement in my gut for the first time in months!

Tonight I wander out of the grounds to meet Rupert, a small smile on my face. Only one more night, then our plan will be put into action at last.

He's already there, even though I'm still a few minutes early. I see a twinkle in his eye that I've associated with mischief in the past, and I'm immediately a little suspicious-- but mostly amused.

Rupert, his hands hidden behind his back, bows to me with a grin on his face. "Good evening, Lidia," he says, "did you have a good day?"

"Um, yes? No worse than usual," I reply, a bit confused at Rupert's behavior.

He looks a bit puzzled himself, plus a little disappointed, but he quickly regains his earlier mischievous expression and demeanor.

"What's this about?" I ask him, extremely curious now.

"Tell me you haven't forgotten?"

"Um. . . what, exactly?"

He bows again, proffering the thing he's had behind his back-- a small honey cake, and it looks fresh.

Rupert smiles hopefully at me. "Happy birthday, Lidia."

_ What? _

I search my mind, going through the days and months in my head.

And. . . it's June third.

My nineteenth birthday.

I cover my mouth with both hands, stifling a squeak. "Rupert! You shouldn't have! Did you make that?"

He looks a bit sheepish. "You know very well I can't cook worth a thing," he says, "I got it from your mother."

"So, whose gift is this then?" I tease, taking the shiny cake carefully from his hand.

"A little of both, I suppose," he chuckles, "but your mother told me to let you know-- don't eat it, not yet. It'll keep well, apparently, and she also says that you'll know when to eat it. It's got a potion or something in it, I reckon."

"O-kay then," I say, taking a handkerchief from my sleeve and carefully wrapping the cake. I can't think why my mother would give this to me, or even what she means my "you'll know when to eat it."

A rustle sounds from inside the gate, and Rupert's eyes widen in panic. He gives me a look that says  _ I'll stay nearby _ , then slips away to hide. I spin as the gate swings open and a frightened-looking face peers out.

It's Genna. "Lidia, you need to come inside immediately. We're on lockdown!"

"Lockdown?"

She nods grimly. "The pirates are upon us."

 

A small group of maids is ushering girls to the sitting room, where the entirety of the royal family is gathered in a corner. They seem to be speaking in worried tones to each other, looking up hopefully as the doors open, then looking even more worried when more girls and maids enter.

Jonna whispers to the queen, then bustles over to us. She looks just as worried as the king and queen. "Have any of you young ladies seen Owen? He's nowhere to be found."

One of the snottier girls, a dark-haired girl named Violet, raises a hand. "Last I saw him, he was headed up those stairs next to the dining room."

Jonna's eyes go wide. "By the great land of Terrex," she whispers, "not the  _ roof _ ."

For some reason, panic fills my stomach and instinct kicks in. I break from the group and dash for the doors, hearing shrieks of protest behind me as I run out of the room. I have no idea why I'm rushing to the Prince's aid, but something tells me I must. I wind through hallways until I find it-- the stairs Violet spoke of.

I hear my breath rattle in my chest as I race up staircase after staircase, my skirt hiked up to my knees. My slippered feet slide on the polished wooden steps, so I kick off the stupid shoes and run barefoot to the flat roof. I ignore the pleading cries from the maids as I draw nearer to the very top of the building.

Flinging the door wide, I dash out to the roof where Owen stands, still-- as if he were made out of stone. A pair of simple binoculars is clenched in his thin-fingered hands, and he stares fixedly at a point somewhere below us, ignoring the light rain that has started to fall.

I walk cautiously on snow-white stone, not sure I want to see what has the Prince so frightened, but knowing, somehow, that I must.

It's hard to see it, with the deep gray clouds blanketing the darkening sky, but I can just make it out-- a rolling black mass of  _ something,  _ inching closer to the palace. it seems as if it has come straight from the sea.

"Are those. . .?" I whisper, not really expecting a response.

"Pirates," Owen murmurs unexpectedly, his voice hoarse.

It is now that I spot the torches.

 

Terror grips my heart as I watch the scene below. Pirates are bad enough-- pirates with fire are even worse.

Suddenly, Owen whirls around, his face pale. "What are you  _ doing _ up here?" He whisper-shouts at me, "You should be downstairs where it's safe!"

I falter. "Uh, um. . . your parents are worried about you so I came to see if. . . you know. . ."

He sighs, his anger melting. "Miss Lidia, you shouldn't worry about me. I can see to my own safety. As for you. . . well, you're a lady."

His words strike a match inside me, flaring my indignance. "And what does that have to do with my being able to fend for myself, Sir?"

"You're supposed to be with the other ladies downstairs, not throwing yourself into danger!"

He hasn't answered my question, not completely, but I decide pushing it on him wouldn't do our situation any favors. I let out a frustrated breath and gesture to the mob of torch-bearing pirates below us. "We're  _ both  _ in serious danger here," I say, "We  _ both  _ need to get to safety, Your Highness! I know my coming up here was a stupid move, and I legitimately have no idea why I went to all the trouble anyways-- you're too stubborn to listen to reason!"

He stares at me silently for a moment. I realize what I have said and feel my face redden: those were not words I should have said to a prince.

The rain patters quietly on the cheap stone of the roof and I can almost hear, very faintly, the crackling of the pirates' torches down on the ground. Owen just stares at me, speechless, making me feel uncomfortable and shameful. After a long moment, the Prince speaks quietly.

"At least you speak your mind, girl."

I look up in surprise; I have been expecting worse. Much worse. But as I look at the young man standing just in front of me, I swear I see the ghost of a smile on his face.

He walks forward, dropping his binoculars onto the roof where the lenses shatter. "Come on, Miss. Let's get us both downstairs before these pirates reach the Palace."


	18. Stormbreak

"How in Terrex did you manage to get him down here?"

It is the queen's grateful voice that asks me this question. I try not to freeze in place from the sheer awe: she is merely a foot away from me. The queen of Terrex!

I remember myself. "It was easy, Your Majesty," I say carefully, "I talked to him for a mere moment and he complied." I know I'm not telling her the whole story, but I reason that she doesn't need to hear about how I insulted her son.

I hear a chuckle behind me, making me jump and whirl around. It's only Owen, and he gives me a knowing look. I feel heat rise to my cheeks, but I just laugh. "I didn't see you there, Your Highness."

"It's all right, Miss Garryl," he says with one of his stunning smiles. 

He's never smiled at me like that before. Huh. Did my insulting words somehow gain his favor? Pushing down my confused wonderings, I remind myself that I will never understand how boys' brains work. 

Suddenly the palace trembles beneath our feet. It's slight, but noticeable. A few girls scream out but are quickly shushed.

Angry voices sound from outside. I gasp. The pirates have arrived.

 

"Where's Fiona?" comes the frantic whisper from Jonna a few minutes later. Owen's breath hitches, and I watch him go pale. Fear has its clutches on my own heart as well.

I curse softly. "If she's been taken. . ."

"We'll get her back," Owen says firmly, putting his hand on my shoulder seemingly without a thought. I try to ignore the heat in my face and focus on the problem at hand.

A dirty envelope slides under the door, and Jonna rushes over to pick it up. She carefully opens it and pulls out a thin piece of grimy paper. As her eyes rove over it, the crease between her brows grows more pronounced.

After a moment she hands the paper to the queen. She reads it and her beautiful blue eyes go wide. "You'd better read this, Owen," she whispers, practically tossing the grungy note at her son.

As he reads, I dare a peek over his shoulder. The smudged words on the sheet make me gasp.

_ We have your girl. If you wish to have her back unhurt, you will pay a thousand gold pieces at our ship at dawn. _

Owen shakes his head and runs a hand through his already messy hair. His brow is creased as he lets out a pent-up breath.

"There's no other way. We have to pay the ransom," he says quietly to his mother.

The king steps up and looks over the words. "We can't pay that to hooligans like them," Owen's father says, "They'll only abuse the gold."

"A small price to pay to regain a sixteen-year-old girl," counters Owen, "The life of whom is much more expensive than this ransom."

The queen seems torn. "We should pay the ransom, Martin," she whispers, "It's not even that much gold if you think about it."

"Honestly, Gwendolyn," the king says, sounding tired, "I don't like paying that much gold to a bunch of pirates. It only encourages them, and we might see them again if we pay."

"Owen's the heir," the queen murmurs, "maybe you should listen to what he has to say. He's already given a very good reason to pay the ransom."

Owen bites his lip. "Mostly," he says softly, "I don't want to lose someone I'm responsible for."

"Pay fake gold or something," I find myself blurting. 

The royal family all turns to look at me, and I feel the familiar embarrassment creep up my spine once again. "I. . . I'm sorry. I spoke out of place."

"No," Owen says, "I value your opinion, Miss Garryl."

"So do I," the queen says firmly.

Even the king nods. "Fake gold. . ."

Owen thinks hard. "It's a good concept," he says, "But how long would it take to make that much, while still making it good enough quality to fool the pirates?"

"We don't have that kind of time," I agree, "Scrap that idea."

"I say we pay it," says the queen with a shrug, "I think that's our best option."

"It will only encourage the pirates!" protests the king.

Owen rubs his temples. "We don't have time to argue. Let's just pay now and face consequences later."

"If we don't do  _ something _ , they'll take Fiona away with them-- or worse," I say, worried about my friend.

Something in the king's face softens. "All right," he says reluctantly, "have it your way. But only because time is short and we don't have much of a choice."

He walks away to speak to his advisor, and I watch him go with confusion. How had he suddenly agreed that easily?

"He has a soft spot for damsels in distress," Owen whispers to me, humor in his voice, "He likes to think he hides it well. He actually fought it quite well there for a moment."

"But in the end, he gave in?"

"Yes." 

The Prince and I share a conspiratorial look before heading back to the other girls.

 

"Owen, are you sure about this?" the queen fusses, "You know, your father was willing to go in your place."

"I'm positive, Mother," Owen says firmly, though I spot him fidgeting with the pink tourmaline ring on his finger.

I don't blame him-- I'm nervous, too. The queen and king have agreed that I, as well as Kavina and Lillith, should accompany their son to the shore to get Fiona back. I've checked over my outfit with Cassi and Genna about ten times already, although it probably shouldn't matter what I wear to a trade with pirates. Habit, I guess.

Owen's mother reaches up and straightens her son's rich-gray uniform, then picks an imaginary speck of lint off his sleeve. Owen seems like he's trying his hardest not to roll his eyes, and the pained glance he shoots me is enough to get me stifling a giggle.

The fact that the Prince is suddenly paying so much attention to me still bothers me a little. I assume it's because I "spoke my mind" up above, but I don't exactly understand  _ why  _ that would make him so spontaneously warm towards me. Especially because most of the things I said weren't the nicest.

The clock chimes; the time has come. I push down my nerves and join up with the other two girls by the door. We all yawn in chorus-- we've been awake for nearly an hour, and the sun is just now rising.

"Ready?" Kavina asks sleepily. Lillith shakes her head firmly but keeps quiet. I just now realize that I have never heard her speak.

"Well, ready or not, dawn's here," I point out. "And we need our Fiona back."

Owen steps up to us. "Are you three ready?" He asks quietly.

We all nod, and the four of us leave quietly. Owen has the gold in a bag slung over his shoulder, so we're all set. Still, I get a bad feeling about this whole thing.

I push down the dread in my stomach, telling myself that I'm scared because we're confronting pirates, nothing more. Kavina reaches over and squeezes my hand as well as Lillith's. The quiet girl smiles slightly, and I shoot Kavina a grateful look. She smiles back, looking extremely confident.

As we walk, Kavina's demeanor shifts. She looks up at Owen. "Your Highness?" She asks nervously.

"Yes, Kavina?" He replies quietly, looking over at her.

"Um, well, after this, Lillith and I have a question for you. If it's alright."

"Of course. Assuming we all get out of this alive."

Lillith looks like she might be about to say something, but she keeps silent.

We're almost to the shore now, and the pirates' ship looms above us like a huge grey shadow.

Owen takes a deep breath. "Well, here goes."

"Yep," I whisper, staring at the grey-black-and-red monster just ahead.  _ Assuming we all get out of this alive _ . 

I say a quick, silent prayer to the god my parents worship, St. Liem. If he really exists, he'll listen to my plea for survival.

Survival. Something I've always taken for granted. Suddenly I become aware of what we face: The unknown. That dark, bottomless pit that few emerge from without scars. Fear starts to freeze my bones before Kavina squeezes my hand again.

"It's okay, Lidia. Just do your best, and that's all that matters," the dark haired girl whispers next to me. I nod, taking a deep breath of my own. Trying to block out the voices that shout at me from my dreams. The darkness, the footsteps, the evil.

A solitary figure walks down from the pirate ship and meets us a few feet away from the boat. "You got them gold 'uns?" the man says in a deep, scratchy voice.

"Yes," Owen says tersely, "Now, where is Fiona?"

The man grins wickedly, then turns back to the ship. "Varamil, take 'er down!" He cackles.

Something's not right about the way he's reacting to us. Fear and dread pool in my stomach again, and even Kavina looks worried now.

Two guards, flanking a small figure, come down from the ship and walk over to us. I note with horror that they've dressed my friend in their clothes-- colorful patchworks of frayed material. She even has a bandana tied around her head.

As the trio approaches, Fiona whispers something to her companions. They step away from her with toothless smiles.

Owen steps back, dropping the sack into my waiting arms. I hold it tight as Owen goes up to talk to Fiona.

She grins and holds out her hand to shake his. He takes it.

It happens so fast I can't register until after the fact. One moment they're standing like friends, the next, Fiona has the Red-Haired Prince pinned with a knife to his throat.

"Fiona!" I burst out.

She scowls at  me. "I'm not  _ her _ anymore, Lidia. Fiona died a long time ago."

Owen sighs against the knife. "What a dirty trick we just fell for," he mutters with a scowl. I scowl too, not at him, but at Fiona. My friend.

"What have you done?" I say, my voice intense, "Fiona, what have you  _ done _ ?"

"Stop calling me that," she growls, "I'm not  _ Fiona  _ anymore. I'm Stormbreak."

"The Lady Pirate," one of the guards says softly, nodding respectfully.

Fiona's eyes, so like her brother's, gleam with a bloodlust I've never seen before. "Kill them all," she hisses, "I'll take care of the Prince."

"Wait!"

We all turn. Lillith stands, shaking with anger, staring at Fiona. 

"We were  _ friends _ . Fiona, we were  _ best friends _ . You can't just go and leave someone like that!" The usually quiet girl shouts, her voice trembling. "Trust me, I've known too many people who have left me. It's all the same. I thought you knew better!"

Fiona stares at Lillith, her mouth slightly open. Finally she says, "Don't kill them. Let them go. But take the gold."

She takes the knife off of Owen's throat and lets him go. "There, Lilly. Are you  _ satisfied  _ yet? Just go home to your pretty little palace."

Owen walks back to us and gently takes the sack of gold from me. Then he drops it at the crewleader's feet. "Take our gold," he says angrily, "I daresay we have too much of it."

Then he turns on his heel. "Let's go, girls."

Kavina and I follow behind, but Lillith doesn't budge. Kavina takes her hand and whispers in her ear, and finally she joins us. But she is still looking back at the ship with an unmistakable look of betrayal. 

Fiona is gone. Effectively, she's dead. Only Stormbreak is left, a mere shell of who she could be. 

It hurts, this betrayal. It hurts almost as much as that first breakup, almost as much as the memories my dress holds.

I fear I have shattered into a million pieces of hurt, and nothing can put me back together again.


End file.
